


Infernal Itch

by Orchidaexa



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Erogenous Zones, Established Relationship, F/M, Grooming, Massage, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchidaexa/pseuds/Orchidaexa
Summary: “There’s just, this infernal itch!” He squirmed properly, and it was Chloe’s turn to look amused, an eyebrow quirked.“Sounds contagious,” she commented, eyes dragging down very obviously to his crotch, and back up again. It was Lucifer’s turn to roll his eyes, and her lips twitched into a smile.“No, Detective, it’s…” He paused, and wet his lips nervously. Chloe couldn’t help but watch as his tongue slicked along his lower lip. “It’s my wings.”





	Infernal Itch

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing because this fandom needs more filth with wings.

Lucifer’s wings were a sensitive subject. It was the one thing that always was, more so than his face, even. Chloe had never really understood it, as they were big, white, and looked so powerful and beautiful and she just wanted to _touch_ them. But unless necessary, he kept them in. Close to his chest, so to say. That beautiful, swimmers chest. A soft flush rose on Chloe’s cheeks as she thought more about the body of her own, personal devil.

It had never really been any sort of ground rule. Just something that, for the sake of both of their sanities, was never brought up. She never touched, and he rarely allowed them to be revealed around her. She’d worked through some of her pre-knowing conversations and had worked out his reasons. Despite new realisations, Chloe knew he still held his Father accountable and saw them as a very much unwanted gift, like an ant farm when you expect chocolate.

She debated on it, fingers slowly combing through those dark curls, as she half read her book, her comfortable sofa forming a wonderful nest. She was far too distracted by thoughts, and the way that Lucifer was twitching wasn’t helping either. He had headphones in, but his irregular movements were clearly not in line with any beat. She passed him a worried look, and he noticed it through thick lashes. His body changed to steady undulations, this time mimicking a sultry beat and Chloe bit her lip, hissing quietly at him.

She tugged an ear bud out of his ear. “Stop that!” He had the gall to look innocent. “Stop it, I just wanted to read!”

“You’ve been on that page for the past five minutes, Detective.” Chloe’s cheeks started to flush. “Is my body just _too much_ for you?” That teasing, flirtatious tone, paired with that smile, was enough to encourage her face to go very red and hot.

Lucifer was clearly watching her with some pleasure as she tried to deny it, stuttering and falling over her words. Eventually he twitched a little, and his face dropped. “There’s just, this infernal itch!” He squirmed properly, and it was Chloe’s turn to look amused, an eyebrow quirked.

“Sounds contagious,” she commented, eyes dragging down very obviously to his crotch, and back up again. It was Lucifer’s turn to roll his eyes, and her lips twitched into a smile.

“No, Detective, it’s…” He paused, and wet his lips nervously. Chloe couldn’t help but watch as his tongue slicked along his lower lip. “It’s my wings.”

There was a stillness that settled over them both. Chloe tilted her head, needing him to spell out very clearly what he expected. When that didn’t happen, as expected from someone who didn’t really understand communication, Chloe instead stumbled over her words. “Okay, do you want me to…? I mean, I could scratch them if you want? If it’s a spot you can’t reach?” Her tongue felt leaden in her mouth, and she felt awfully presumptuous. The words seemed to muddy the air, making her more wary of the ways her partner could possibly react.

As it turned out, his reaction was much more relaxed than either of them actually felt. Lucifer shook his head, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “They’re not just _itchy_. You can’t just scratch and make it go away.” The shrug he gave was helpless, and Chloe felt a pang of guilt that didn’t really belong to her.

“So what will make it go away?”

Lucifer, clearly put out that Chloe had not magically picked up on the specifics from his vague description, extricated himself from their entanglement. He didn’t enjoy the cool air on his side, where he had been pressed against her body. But he stood anyway, and willed them into existence. Unfurling magnificently, his brilliant white wings stretched almost wall to wall in Chloe’s quiet apartment. He gestured to some ruffled flight feathers, which lay close to his body. “There’s a bottle of oil in your bedside table. For emergencies.” And Chloe would argue as to why she needs the oil, or why it’s even there, but that all falls to the wayside as she gazes on the slice of divinity attached to her partner.

Finally, her brain boots up and she scrambles to go and get the oil (but seriously, why _did_ he put it there?), and she returns as quickly as possible. She’s more than willing to do his bidding, and is slowly coming to the realisation that she may get to touch, or even groom her partner. A frisson of nervousness goes through her; the thought of her Devil being so vulnerable under her hands strikes her as intimate in ways they haven’t been before.

Chloe is sure that Lucifer has noted her enthusiasm. She’s also very sure that her nerves show on her face as she stands in front of him, almond oil gripped tightly in her right hand. Her voice quavers slightly when she speaks, and she just knows that he will pick up on it. “I can… I can leave you to it,” she says, and her eyes plead with him to tell her the exact opposite. To welcome her in, and encourage her to help out.

And for his part, Lucifer beckons her forwards. His voice is low, measured, as he instructs her, Chloe looking for his approval. “Rub oil into your hands, it’s like a massage, and I know how good you are at those…” His brown eyes watch as she rubs her hands together, but his wings flinch back as she reaches forwards. She bites her lip, feeling a little stung by that, but trying her hardest not to show it. By the time she has schooled her expression back to neutral, Lucifer has that kicked puppy look in his eyes, and Chloe knows that he feels bad about hurting her, even accidentally. His breath shudders, and she watches his shoulders tense as he mentally prepares himself.

He takes her wrists. It’s a soft, heated grip that shows her precisely where to place her hands and Lucifer is gently berating her, even as her fingers sink into elegant feathers. “Don’t just reach for them like your spawn and her sticky little hands…” He feigns a shudder of disgust, the feathers lifting and puffing before settling flat again. Chloe is fascinated, and she works through the reasonably straight secondary feathers that Lucifer has placed her hands onto. Her fingers card through them, in the direction they seem to lay most comfortably in. She’s well aware that Lucifer could quite probably easily reach this spot himself, only a little disappointed that he believes she requires supervision.

Chloe also feels his watchful gaze drop, after a few moments of watching. Clearly she has passed some sort of test, and her fingers begin to work through the more mussed feathers in earnest. She misses Lucifer’s abs tensing every now and again; her concentration dedicated to the task at hand. Very soon, Chloe is pressed against Lucifer’s chest, focused on the undersides of his wings with intensity. Her hands graze his sides and he twitches with a breath of laughter.

It breaks her focus, and she smiles up at him, her blue eyes twinkling as she taunts him. “Ticklish?” Chloe just wants to bite that pouty lip. Lucifer waves her off, extending his wings behind himself, so as to give her more room to work. She presses a soft kiss to Lucifer’s cheek, burying her hands back into the plush feathers with a reverence that she doesn’t think she’s ever held for anything. But the overlapping feathers are such a state that she can’t help but sigh, straightening a few coverts.

That sigh is enough for Lucifer to flinch away again, swallowing audibly. It takes very little effort to realise he needs reassurance, and Chloe does just that, slipping an arm across his waist and tracing oily fingers on his hip bone. “I just wish you’d let me sort these sooner,” she soothes, a warm glow of contentment affecting the timbre of her voice. Sometimes, the devil can be like a scared cat, in need of patience and love. He relaxes again, slowly letting the tension seep out of his body, wings drooping downwards. The intimate atmosphere is slowly warming, and now it’s hard to not notice the occasional shiver that runs through Lucifer, when Chloe’s fingers graze against the skin of his wings, where the quill meets the surface.

Finally, her work on the first underside is completed, and Chloe presses affectionate touches to Lucifer’s stomach and chest. It feels like the least she can do, given the sheer vulnerability that he is displaying to her. Chloe knows, full well, that Lucifer has probably not offered them up for touching in quite a while, and she appreciates the moment, quietly. Saying it would slam the walls of her (constantly unsure) devil straight back up.

“Do you need to sit?” she offers, gesturing to a chair, and there’s a look of relief on Lucifer’s face that makes Chloe feel guilty for not considering it before. He straddles the chair, lifting the wing with the underside still in need of grooming. Chloe slicks her hands in a little more oil, pressing a warm kiss to his temple, starting her work again. She doesn’t notice Lucifer’s eyes closing, looking exactly like a smug and satisfied cat.

It’s almost decadent, this focused pampering, all of Chloe’s focus on Lucifer. It’s precisely the kind of pampering that she knows Lucifer desires; he just wants her eyes on him, he just wants her care and attention. Chloe is happy to indulge him, given that he is so openly vulnerable right now. And as she finishes straightening downy feathers that rest just above his skin, she traces the contours of the devil’s beautiful face. Little oil smears shimmer on his skin, and he leans into her affectionate touch.

“You should do the back too,” he says, quiet and serious, a waver to his voice that Chloe politely ignores. She doesn’t understand quite why he is so much more hesitant than with the undersides, but she thumbs his cheek, and situates herself behind him.

His wings have tensed, shoulders keeping them partly together. Chloe’s lips purse and she physically pushes, just a light amount of pressure. “Relax, Lucifer…” She resists the urge to tell him to spread them.

He grumbles in response, wings drooping as he forcibly exhales the stress. “I’d be much more relaxed in bed, Detective.” Lucifer gestures with a hand, the flirtatious tone in his voice only a little strained, and Chloe smiles. She taps his waist, stepping back from him to allow him to rise.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Chloe’s tone is light, and a smirk is on her face as she watches Lucifer rise, eyes dropping to that wonderful behind.

He settles with a soft _whumph_ , rubbing his face on the pillows, cotton sheets obviously acceptably soft. His wings spread far beyond the edges of the bed, but the ruffled parts- the parts he can’t reach, Chloe thinks- are central. They look almost painful, with bent feather shafts and overlapping coverts, flight feathers only just in a sort of neat line. Reapplying oil to her hands, Chloe straddles the devil’s narrow waist and gets to work.

Her weight on his back seems to relax him, as the very human weight and warmth tends to. In fact, with his face in the pillows, Chloe could almost swear he’s asleep, except for the occasional hitch of his breath and tension that lines his shoulders momentarily as her fingers graze skin deep in the feathers. She works, silently, watching as the tension builds until she switches over to the other side. And repeat. Eventually, Lucifer is so tense Chloe is almost sure she’s broken him again, her fingers slowly working through downy feathers near the upper edge of the wings. The silence has moved from companionable to strained, and Chloe bites her lip in concern.

“Lucifer?” She leans forward to press a kiss into his hair.

He twitches his wings. “Detective.” His voice sounds hoarse, like he is concentrating very hard on restraining himself.

She brushes her fingers through the soft down, encouraging it to lay flat as it puffs upwards. “What’s wrong?” She doesn’t fail to notice the way he tenses even more.

And then she hears it, she feels it. A distinct whimper and his hips move against the mattress. “I am going to ravish you,” he mutters, words uneven, but Chloe lets her lip twitch and just tangles her fingers into his feathers.

“You,” she says, “are hardly in a position to ravish _anyone_ right now.” She settles her weight onto the small of his back, trapping him. Those wonderful hips almost stutter against the sheets. The intake of breath is quite something and she knows that this must be crossing so many wires in his brain.

The tender intimacy, the worshipful, indulgent grooming, and the sudden display of dominance; all coming together and muddling his mind. And, Chloe considers, teasing her fingers right to the base of the feather shafts, this seems to be an erogenous zone. Her nails, even though they remain clipped short, needle lightly against skin.

And he lets out a moan, breath shaky and almost unsure, arcing upwards to kiss her, hard, at such an awkward angle. She tightens her fingers in his feathers to hold him still and that sends such a frisson of energy through him that his hips piston almost uselessly, capturing whatever friction they can. But it doesn’t matter, because the possessive detective refuses to let him fall away from her. And that, ultimately, is the catalyst to his undoing. He’s beautiful when he comes apart like this, and Chloe can only look on with desire. Face flushed, a bright pink, eyes almost totally closed. His head is thrown back in ecstasy, and all his muscles tensing and relaxing in rapid succession. And that, as he falls silent, is what Chloe will think on later. She slips off Lucifer, settling on her heels to allow him to rid himself of the wings, if he were to wish for it.

Instead he rolls over, a soft smile on his face, wings arranging under his body.

“You’re allowed to groom them again.”

 

 

 


End file.
